


Training

by SpookshowBabyx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:15:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookshowBabyx/pseuds/SpookshowBabyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request piece. Prompt: Regina finds herself rather taken with Emma's abdominal muscles. Set during the first series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well... This is not at all what I thought it was going to be! It was supposed to be a smutty one-shot, but... Apparently it's now a beefed-out two-parter! I promise this will get to the request in the next chapter! This is my first piece taken from a request on my Fanfic tumblr (go take a look and leave me one if you want! it's the same handle as on here, and there's a link on my profile... I'm also working on a nekkid picture, so go follow me *wiggles eyebrows seductively* so that you dont miss out on my terrible grasp of human anatomy!)
> 
> So... Oh yes! The prompt! : "...I was hoping to request a story about Emma and Regina, wherein Regina is obsessed with Emma's abdominal muscles..." As I said... We will get to that point, I promise! :) Please review and hope you enjoy! :)

"More coffee, Madame Mayor?"

"Hmm?... Oh. No, I don't think so."

Regina shakes her head dismissively; sliding the mug that rests before her towards Ruby who glances down at its tepid contents a little nervously. Keeping her feelings as to the quality- or rather, the lack of it- of Granny's supposedly 'fresh brew' to herself, the brunette simply waves her hand in a gesture that the young waitress should make herself scarce.

She is in no mood for idle argument, whether at Ruby's expense or not.

The reason behind her rather sour mood is currently stood no more than a stone's throw away; the town's newly appointed Sheriff leant against the fence outside the Diner with her arms folded across her chest in that ever hostile manner that only serves to aggravate the Mayor further, as she has yet to figure out just what it is about Emma Swan that others seem to find even  _remotely_  likeable.

As if on cue, Ashley appears from around the corner and strolls over to share a little heart-to-heart with the blonde; grinning at her all the while- and tickling her little one beneath the chin to elicit much the same expression- as though conversation with the Sheriff were a folly-fueled delight.

Having been on the receiving end of the blonde's frustratingly dry drawl more times than she'd like to remember, Regina knows this to be anything but the truth.

Especially just recently.

What with the blonde moping around town in a manner even more sullen than usual.

_One wouldn't have believed such a thing were possible..._

No, and yet, it appears to be so.

Ever since she'd tried to step in and have her way when it had come to the twins- in many ways a test for the young Sheriff, and one the blonde had failed miserably- Emma's mood has seemed to deteriorate dangerously and threaten permanently for thunder.

 _Not_  that that's stopped Henry from trying to find ways to spend as much time as possible with the irksome blonde.

Pursing her lips and pushing herself up from the table, Regina stalks briskly towards the door; cordially ignoring the waitress's hesitant chirping telling her to have a nice day, and letting the glass rattle in its frame on her way out.

Marching up the path back towards her office, she slows down as she nears the Sheriff and her rather weary-eyed companion and nods curtly when Ashley seems to sense her cue to hurry on up the path towards the warmth of the Diner with a brief 'good morning' muttered in her direction.

Emma offers no such pleasantries.

"Gold was looking for you."

"Was he? Did he say why?"

"Dunno. Didn't ask."

The blonde shrugs, and Regina fights to control the overwhelming urge to shake the younger woman roughly by the shoulders.

Instead, she simply sighs; eyeing the Sheriff up and down and finding herself no less irritated by what she sees.

Black.

Black sweater, black pants, black boots; bloodied vibrantly by the garish swatch of her jacket.

This seems to be becoming a bit of theme.

... Ever since Graham... Well...

Ever since Graham's accident.

And it  _frustrates_  the brunette. The younger woman has no right to be mourning over what was never hers.

It's just not in good taste.

Not to mention the rather awkward situation following the fallen Sheriff's funeral... A ghastly gathering of false friends within the dimmed lights of the Diner- the Mayor showing face for no other reason than her political duty to do so- as the fools of her town had shed their final tears without a single ounce of understanding as to how badly she hadn't wanted to be there.

Still, she had thought herself lucky on  _one_  count at least; Emma Swan had seemed to have the decency to stay away.

At least, so she had  _thought_ , before her brow had furrowed contemplatively as her gaze had fallen on the fine silhouette of a young woman clad in a low-backed dress which had made it very clear she hadn't been wearing a bra. Still, the garment had been pretty and demurely fitting, as well as being rather  _delectably_  fitted to its owner.

What had been a frown of confusion and lack of recognition had swiftly become a snarl of distaste when the woman in question had turned around to address the waitress, and the brunette had come to the unwelcome realisation that the svelte limbs she had been admiring- the way one does after a couple of glasses of wine- hadn't been unfamiliar at  _all_ , but rather simply the way Emma had pinned up her hair.

_Did you fuck him?_

She had thought then as she does now, regarding the younger woman cooly.

She recalls thinking much the same when the Pawnbroker had jumped in to come to the blonde's aid when running for Sheriff, though with a little less jealousy tainting the idea.

She just imagines Emma to be the type.

After all, one tends to use their assets to their advantage... And there is something uncomfortably, well, _fuckable_ , about the moody young woman who seems to _thrive_  off causing her grief.

Not that she's given the notion much thought, of course...

Shaking away confused thoughts, she sighs and addresses the Sheriff shortly.

"Very well, I will go and see what he wants... Shouldn't you be behind a desk?"

"... I'm pretty sure it's not against any law for me to buy myself a coffee on the way to work... Though I'm _sure_  you'll let me know if you  _do_  find one."

"Well, you're not going to come any closer to your caffeine fix stood loitering around out here, dear."

Green eyes narrow as Emma eyes her reproachfully, and she remains certain that the way the blonde looks at her has changed ever so slightly since the business with Ava and Nicholas.

After all, her manner of dealing with the matter and reprimanding the ingénue young Sheriff had been cruelly calculated, and the blonde had taken it decidedly personally, as had- of course- been her intention.

A savage dig of her nails beneath the surface in an attempt to find a way to force the younger woman crack and yield.

And, she believes, she _had_  succeeded in creating the beginnings of a small fissure in Emma's carefully honed stony exterior.

That... And she has managed to  _royally_  piss the younger woman off.

* * *

_Maple, maple, conifer, maple, oak, conifer, maple... Bush... Hmm... Hawthorn, maple..._

The Sheriff chants in her head as her sneakers pound down upon the compacted dirt of the forest floor. In all honesty, she hasn't the faintest clue as to the flora surrounding her, and merely guesses inexpertly as she flies by- occasionally ducking to avoid being blinded by an errant twig here and there- for sake of something to keep her mind off of the task at hand.

Once upon a time, she had actually enjoyed running; had actually _missed_  the gym after moving to Storybrooke, and had ended up feeling a little lethargic due to its absence in her daily routine.

Still, she will be the first to admit that she is apathetic by nature, and she hadn't found herself bothered by such a thing to the extent of actually  _doing_  anything about it... Until Graham had passed away.

That was when the running had started up again.

That first time, storming around her small apartment in a monosyllabic hunt for her sneakers while Mary Margaret had watched on nervously, the raven-headed woman had asked her if perhaps she should wait until daylight before running off into the woods, despite expressing her cautious understanding that she might wish to clear her head.

She had snapped back that she simply wished to be left  _alone_ , but had left her housemate uncorrected as to the reasoning behind her sudden need to throw herself back into exercise. It had seemed like a much more _logical_  reason than the one plaguing her own mind to say the least, and so, she had left it at that.

Not wishing to discuss reality with the schoolteacher, however close they might have become over the last couple of months.

After all... How exactly would that conversation even  _start_?!

 _Mary Margaret... I don't think Graham's death was natural, or even an_  accident _... And I'm pretty sure the town's Mayor means to kill me when she first has the chance._

Not exactly the way to go when trying to convince her housemate that all is well with her upstairs.

She imagines it would only be an hour or so before Archie showed up on their doorstep claiming to just be 'dropping by'.

No... Not really a conversation that should leave the confines of her mind.

But in there- rattling around with all the rest of her crap- the thought swims vaguely; tinged lightly red.

She has tried to stamp it out several times; understanding deep down that- however much of a  _bitch_  she might be- Regina isn't about to come after her wielding a weapon and seeking her fatal demise.

The thought is ridiculous.

 _Almost_  as ridiculous as Henry's whole faiytale thing...

_It's just..._

Well... It's just that ever since the kid had spoken to her so glumly and full of foreboding out by the castle, she has found herself silently reprimanding her imagination... Telling herself that of  _course_  she doesn't believe Henry about Graham's death being really rather suspect...

That of  _course_  she hadn't spent a fair few hours trawling the net searching for symptoms, timings, facts,  _anything_  to put her mind at ease over the abruptness of it all.

Telling herself not to be _ridiculous,_  as some stubborn part of her refuses to believe Regina hadn't been at fault, much like Henry has suggested.

" _Fuck_!"

She doubles over and massages her side as she takes in rasping gulps of air, and tells herself for what feels like the hundredth time that she is simply training.

Getting back into shape.

That she is in now way, shape or form preparing herself for fight or flight in the face of a well-dressed, five-foot-something woman with killer heels and a nasty attitude.

"Because that _would_  be crazy..."

She reminds herself, straightening up and stretching her left hamstring with a wince.

She sighs as she tries to find a glimmer of motivation to push herself into carrying on in her masochistic task.

Sure, she _had_  enjoyed running, but a couple of months of doing little more than chasing a wayward ten-year old around town has taken its toll, and it has only been the last three times running the five mile track through the woods that she hasn't wondered at some point or other if she might be about to pass out.

Not to mention having christened her first attempt by unceremoniously puking behind a bush while trying to coax shaking legs into remaining compliant in keeping her up.

She supposes she  _could_  have started out with jogging instead of hitting cruel mud head-on, but, that's simply not her style.

"All or nothing..."

She gasps; rolling her eyes irritably as her mind throws her up the image of Regina sat comfortably at her kitchen table with a glass of wine and sparing her ongoing existence no thought at all.

"Yeah... This is  _totally_  the most sensible, absolutely not in the slightest bit crazy reaction you've had to...  _Shit_!"

Thunder claps loudly up ahead, and the Sheriff skids to a halt and stands with her hands on her hips, panting up at the gunmetal sky moodily.

A second low rumble, and rain begins pouring down with biblical intent.

"... Fantastic..."

_And, while we're on the thought-train to crazy, I'm just going to go ahead and give Regina a point for this shit too... Someway, Somehow... She did this._

Smirking and shaking her head as her pale flesh gleams with moisture and her ponytail sends an uncomfortable stream of water trickling between her shoulder blades, she begins running with a little more purpose in the direction of the Station; relieved as she breaks out from heavy wood to sprint the final stretch of open field towards dull, sandy brick.

* * *

From behind the wheel of her Benz, Regina watches as a familiar figure comes hurtling down the barren field between the Station and the woods with a frown. Running her finger over her bottom lip thoughtfully, she hesitates for just a moment, before she deploys her turn signal and cruises into the tarmac lot to pull up beside the younger woman's bug slowly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Liar, liar, pants on fire! This will be a three-parter as I'm being dragged out to a concert and forced to drink whisky *weeps at the difficulties of life*, so... See you tomorrow! Please, please, please don't feel you cant review and give me something to read while out! The alcohol increases my love for you all ten-fold!

Jogging up the ramp leading into the Station and ducking into the dull warmth of the entrance hall, Emma remains too caught up in trying to catch her breath to notice the ominous, sleek body of the Mayor's Mercedes parked out beside her own geriatric set of wheels. Standing with one hand pressed against a stitch in her side and the other flat against the wall, she touches the tip of her tongue pensively to her upper lip as her lungs continue to burn and studies the heavy grey of the sky; the streetlights outside triggered into flickering to life due to the darkness cast by the storm.

"Man, I miss Phoenix..."

She grumbles, despite knowing full well that this isn't true in the slightest.

Still, sometimes it just helps soothe the soul to bitch a little.

Turning for her office, her spirits lift a little when she remembers she's packed the remainders of last night's chinese for lunch, and she stalks towards the dull little room whilst trying to wrestle her hair-tie from sodden tangles.

Succeeding as she enters the room, and shaking out long curls that kink this way and that in protest to their drenched confinement, she drops the ratty piece of elastic to the floor with a barked cry of surprise as she almost walks straight into the Mayor who stands with her arms folded just beyond the threshold.

" _Regina!_ "

Shock swiftly becomes irritation, and the blonde closes her eyes and begs any interested deity for patience once her back is turned as she walks stiffly around to her desk.

"Miss Swan... Sheriff... How  _nice_  of you to stop by your office during working hours."

"Regina-"

"- I'm sure the people feel that their tax dollars are being spent wisely and that they have little to fear, what with the professionalism of their elected Sheriff. Heaven forbid anyone have an  _emergency_  due to the dangerous weather we're experiencing and actually need to get in  _contact_  with you..."

Sighing, and wishing more than anything that she could just close her eyes and make the darker woman disappear- not to mention grab herself a drink of water and a towel- Emma pointedly depresses the button on the answer machine blinking patiently away on her desk; holding the brunette's disdainful gaze defiantly.

_Message 1..._

_...Emma... Hey... Look, sorry to keep on at you, but please remember to bring home the sweater I left over there the other day; it's my only green one... Let me know when you'll be back so I know when to start dinner. See you later, bye!_

_... End of messages._

Stalking over to the filing cabinets that line the far wall, the Sheriff plucks up mint wool draped over cool steel and tosses the schoolteacher's sweater on top of her satchel with a purposeful flourish.

"And all order is once more restored..."

She growls moodily, balling her fists behind her back as- rather than taking her leave- Regina makes her way over to the time-worn chair opposite the blonde's own and helps herself to a seat with her legs daintily crossed one over the other.

Raising her voice as she disappears into the small kitchenette that adjoins her office in the corner, Emma grabs herself a drink, before eyeing up a rather limp dish towel with a wrinkle of her nose. Opting instead for the fraying grey towel from the bathroom, she rough dries her hair with a ruthlessness that comes naturally; bending over so as to allow any misbehaving droplets to patter down onto cool linoleum.

"Can I help you with anything  _else_ , Madame Mayor?"

Shaking out mussed tresses, she slings the towel over her shoulder and pads back into the office to lean in the doorway impatiently.

"Gold  _wasn't_  looking for me... He was looking for documents he assumed _you'd_  passed  _on_  to me; something I knew _nothing_  about, but, after checking through my _own_  paperwork, appear to have been outstanding for over a _week_  now..."

"Documents?"

Emma inquires with a frown, throwing the towel over the back of her chair and plucking at the drenched cotton of her t-shirt indifferently; not about to commit to catching pneumonia for the sake of public decency.

Regina scolds herself as her breath catches in her throat; not having expected the blonde to deem it acceptable to strip off in such a callous fashion in front of company, yet wondering with irritable afterthought why she _continues_  to find herself surprised.

The Sheriff wanders over to her desk and pilfers through a chaotic stack of papers that weigh down her in-tray, several droplets of water escaping her hair to roll lazily down pale flesh.

The Mayor watches their descent curiously, finding herself suddenly needing to swallow as she observes the faint shadows and lines cast across bare flesh by the younger woman's movements; sodden tracksuit trousers hanging dangerously low off of sharp hipbones.

" _What_  documents?"

The blonde asks with a frown, before sniffing awkwardly as she catches Regina's rather rapt attention to her midsection. Dismissing any further sense of shyness her current state of undress might incur with the notion that they're both women here and she's not exactly offering up anything the darker woman hasn't seen before, Emma places her hands impatiently on her hips and waits for an answer.

Dark eyes flash as twin lines of muscle tense at the Sheriff's obliques as she take up this new- really rather appealing- stance, before the Mayor glances back up to find familiar, irritating green.

"Pardon?"

"What documents was I supposed to send through to you? You never asked me for any."

"No... But such a course of action was quite  _clearly_  stated in the email I sent out with them attached in the first place..."

Regina replies, but her attention doesn't seem completely invested in her usual caustic complaining about everything and anything the blonde might do or be thinking of doing, and Emma wonders if this should be a cause for concern.

Ruffling back long curls briskly as she strives for something more to say on the matter, Emma frowns as she watches dusky lashes flutter down to hood glittering coals; the brunette wetting her bottom lip subconsciously as her contemplation seems to be currently more directed towards the younger woman's navel than bitching about her misgivings as Sheriff.

Raising an eyebrow, the blonde opens her mouth in surprise, before forming a slow smirk of understanding.

"See anything you like?"

She teases huskily; thrilled to be able to turn the tables and shove some of her perpetual discomfort onto Regina for a change. After all, she knows how it can be- better than most given the fact that communal showering is hardly an obscurity for her- and she recognises that darkened look easily. It's the same look she knows sometimes finds her  _own_  pale features when confronted with exposed flesh and a figure that serves to particularly tickle her fancy. She knows that it's only natural- whatever some of her male friends might have suggested when briefed on the subject- and knows that when one's lashes fall to half-mast the way the Mayor's do now, it's generally a fairly dependable pointer that reactions are going on  _elsewhere_  also.

What she _isn't_  expecting is the affirmative nod the Mayor proceeds to give her, nor the cool look Regina regards her with as she sits back in her chair in a dangerously regal fashion.

_No, oh hell no! Not 'regal'. Fuck that shit, Swan! Don't you even get started with all that crap right now!_

Emma swallows, keeping her face carefully expressionless.

"I've wondered about you..."

The Mayor purrs, and the blonde's brow furrows as she struggles to find meaning in such a cryptic statement.

"Uh... Yeah? How so?"

"Wondered what you kept hidden beneath your despicable choice of wardrobe... After all...  _Something_  had to be keeping you in favour..."

"... What are you implying?"

Emma growls dangerously, and the darker woman notes that her sudden switch to open aggression has a really rather pleasurable effect on the way she holds herself.

"Women with bodies like yours get what they want, Miss Swan... I know this, as women with faces like mine enjoy the benefit of much the same... Of course...  _I_  haven't needed to do anything uncouth to use my own talents..."

"... I never..."

Emma hisses, her expression speaking of both surprise and outrage, and it is this former emotion that causes the Mayor to raise her brow as she doesn't deem the younger woman a good enough actress to so swiftly and innocently cover her sins.

"No?"

"Of  _course_  not!"

"... Then Graham..."

"Oh, will you give it a _rest_!?  _Seriously_! I'm pretty sure Graham's main interest wasn't in the contents of my  _pants_!"

"... Then you are either a fool, or dangerously naive..."

"...It's not like he wasn't _getting_  any..."

The blonde snipes darkly, but the Mayor proceeds simply to smile and shake her head.

"...And Gold?"

"What  _about_  Gold?"

A pointed look and the Sheriff opens her mouth in childlike disgust, shooting back shrilly

"What, are you fucking _insane_?!"

"... I am not, dear... Simply a great deal smarter than _you_  appear to be. Don't look so shocked at the insinuation... You came to this town as a drifter- a nobody- and wound up playing Sheriff. One must ask themselves if you haven't worked a little persuasive magic with those in power... And those in  _power_  would be Gold... And myself..."

"... I  _never_..."

"Hmm... Strangely... I find myself inclined to believe you..."

"Well,  _good_  for you, Madame Mayor..."

The younger woman snaps angrily. Regina simply shrugs, attention falling once more to smooth skin; captivated by the way the younger woman's pants- heavy with rain- hang precariously low to allow a faint hint at the indents of the muscle leading to her sex.

"It  _is_  what you do though, isn't it, dear?... What you did before you came here?"

"...What?"

"Oh, I know, there was probably more to it, but _ultimately_ , you were relying on people wanting to  _fuck_  you..."

The brunette's voice carries a strange gravellyness to it, and the Sheriff finds that- despite her seething anger- she is also a little surprised at the Mayor's use of crass language. Just as she is surprised to find that, while she knows Regina likes nothing more but to grind her beneath her metaphorical heel into the dirt, there is a challenge to the darker woman's low purr that doesn't necessarily speak of simple disdain.

It's _more_  than that...

She cocks her head inquisitively to the side and continues with extreme caution, her own tone light as she brushes away a small droplet of rain from beside her navel with a calculatedly slow swipe of her finger.

"... Sometimes... Why?... Do  _you_?"

"Do I what, dear?"

The brunette inquires throatily; the current topic of conversation far removed from her usual poise and careful adherence to proper manners, but she finds her mind wandering as she drinks in pale flesh without pretence, and recalls several previous occasions when she would have loved to have this conversation. The blonde is a pain in the ass, and a loathsome creature, but as for her appeal, well, Regina supposes she can't really argue with the physical reaction her body betrays her with; the silk between her legs steadily dampening in a way that is not entirely unpleasant.

Emma merely regards her cooly.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

It's a cruel question- dripping with sinful promise- but there is also an element of genuine curiosity there that she is not able to entirely mask from her eyes.

Playing along- deciding that they have toed the line too far now to fall prey to consequence- the Mayor simply meets the younger woman's calm gaze with burning intensity.

"...I've thought about it."

This admission finally causes the Sheriff to falter slightly; genuinely surprised by the brunette's response. Taking advantage of the dominant position the younger woman has now left open for the taking, Regina pushes herself to her feet and takes a couple of steps towards the blonde who licks her lips nervously.

"... And what about you? What do you want?"

"I... I mean..."

"Because one of two things can happen now, Sheriff... Either you can find yourself something suitable to wear and find me the papers I need and I'll be on my way... Or I can fuck you right here on one of the cots... Your move..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The end!... Probably... I never know. Anyway, hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

_"... And what about you? What do you want?"_

_"I... I mean..."_

_"Because one of two things can happen now, Sheriff... Either you can find yourself something suitable to wear and find me the papers I need and I'll be on my way... Or I can fuck you right here on one of the cots... Your move..."_

Emma studies the brunette silently; trying to decipher whether she's bluffing. Regina regards her back cooly and she decides to throw caution to the wind and assume Madame Mayor is deadly serious.

Feeling the beginnings of her own excitement, she glances lazily over towards the cot in the cell closest to them before returning her attention to the Mayor with a small smirk.

"Well, as you said; women with faces like yours, Regina... They get what they want..."

And with that she stalks through unyielding bars- allowing the Mayor the chance to conclude that the back view is similarly desirable to the front- and leans against the wall beside freshly laundered bedding as though simply waiting for a bus or something equally mundane. Still, the cool stone of the wall behind her causes her to jump as she rests her shoulders against it, and the brunette enjoys the effect her resultant gasp has on exposed flesh.

Making her way over with careful poise, Regina takes a seat on the sagging mattress of the cot and holds Emma's gaze intently. The blonde moves to join her, but she shakes her head and purrs softly

"Take off the rest."

"I will, but I-"

"-Now. I've told you that your body is the key to getting what you want... I want to see the rest..."

The Sheriff grins, pushing herself up from the wall so that she stands directly before the Mayor with her hip cocked and her arms crossed over the soft cotton of her bra.

"At least make things a little more even?"

"... Miss Swan... I'm not sure you've entirely  _grasped_  our little situation... I'm going to  _fuck_  you, not  _make love_  to you... What possible cause might you have to believe you deserve to do the same?"

The younger woman's grin falters, and impish mischief is replaced by cold steel causing the darker woman to swallow.

She prefers the blonde with a little bite to her.

Still, in the interest of keeping Emma at least sweet enough to refrain from now turning this into some menial argument- not to mention growing impatient to be rewarded with what remains hidden- she changes track with an arrogant toss of silken locks.

"Besides, you're soaked and I don't want you to get me wet."

The blonde slowly stops her glaring in favour of a measured look, before growling huskily

"I think it's a little too late for that, Madame Mayor..."

Regina's eyes flash dangerously as the Sheriff's crass insinuation has her clenching her thighs and realising just how much truth lies behind the blonde's small quip. She swallows and nods pointedly at the younger woman's track pants in a bid that she do as she's told.

Glancing over towards the main door for a second- cool green shocked silver by a flash of lightening- Emma decides that it's highly unlikely anyone's going to come and pay her a visit with the torrential pounding of the rain against the high windows of the cells, and looks back back down at the brunette placidly; running her hands up her sides.

Tugging tight grey cotton over her head and shaking out long tresses to tumble down her back, Emma keeps her gaze trained on the Mayor, whose dark coals travel curiously over firm breasts and pale shoulders.

Regina remains silent for a couple of beats- simply watching the Sheriff breathe- before whispering at her to remove her pants and quit stalling.

Emma shrugs at this; toeing off her sneakers, before slipping her fingers easily between waistband and flesh and allowing the heavy, damp material to fall down around her ankles to leave her in just the plain, black scrap of her underwear.

"... If you _are_  telling the truth, and you really haven't been putting... This... to any use... What a waste..."

"I'm putting it to use now, aren't I?"

The Sheriff growls; stepping out of the discarded folds of her clothes and stalking towards the cot with a sly grin.

She moves so that she attempts to crawl on top of the Mayor, but the darker woman corrects her swiftly; shoving the blonde down hard so that she lies prone on her back while she herself subsequently rolls in close onto her side so that she can look down into the younger woman's defiant green stare.

She smirks as, for a second, Emma seems to suffer a moment's awkwardness- their lips close enough to kiss, but their relationship begging the question as to why they might wish to do so- and Regina takes advantage of the fact; running her palm forcefully down the flat plain of the blonde's stomach at a leisurely pace. When her fingertips touch the waistband of the younger woman's black briefs, she offers the latter a loaded stare, before slipping her hand into the shadow of the Sheriff's underwear.

Cupping delectable heat, she teases the younger woman slowly, watching as Emma clenches her jaw but otherwise strives to refrain from reacting, and murmurs cattily

"I'm pretty sure the state of your underwear has little to do with the weather..."

Before entering slick folds and curling her fingers cruelly to elicit a low hiss as the blonde's closes her eyes and her breathing becomes a little shaky.

Smiling as she continues to observe the effects of her ministrations, Regina begins working with skilled intent as the Sheriff moves her legs restlessly and bites down hard on her bottom lip; quiet sighs escaping to the accompaniment of rain on glass, and her hands opening and closing into tight fists.

Deepening the slow pulse of her fingers, the brunette purrs quiet encouragement as the blonde tenses her enviable stomach muscles with the telling flutter of one completely at their pleasure's mercy.

Giving in to temptation- as well as her better judgement- Regina moves over the Sheriff and runs her tongue between pert breasts to trail the hard line down to the younger woman's navel with the sharp point of pink velvet; tasting salt.

Emma moans a series of chocked expletives in response, and the Mayor smirks as she changes tactics; replacing deep thrusts with slick attention to the blonde's most sensitive spot to be rewarded with a much more violent tensing and spasming of taut muscle.

Feeling her own sex clench as the younger woman arches her back tellingly and slams her legs together to trap her hand between them, Regina chuckles darkly as the Sheriff pants hoarsely

"Okay, okay! Fuck! You have to stop now!"

Stilling her fingers and watching with open curiosity as Emma relaxes- her eyes still closed and the occasional spasm fluttering through slim limbs in a most appetising fashion- the brunette pats spent flesh in an almost amiable manner and laughs quietly at the low yelp and jump this garners her.

Wiping her fingers clean on the soft skin of the younger woman's stomach, she remains lying on her side studiously until the Sheriff seems to regain some sense of the here and now and opens her eyes cautiously.

"... I needed that."

She confides simply, and Regina rolls her eyes before pushing long limbs out the way so that she may climb from the rumpled covers of the cot.

"I would never have guessed... Perhaps I'll  _have_  to take your word for truth."

"That  _would_  make a nice change at least..."

Emma nods, sitting up and crossing her legs with a satisfied smirk. Regarding her stoically, Regina sniffs as she straightens out the crisp pull of her shirt.

"Get back to work, Miss Swan."

Rolling her own eyes as she watches the brunette turn on her heel in that ever brisk, business-like fashion, the Sheriff yawns, before speaking up silkily

"Regina..."

"...Yes?"

"You were worried I'd get you wet before we even started... Surely you can't be comfortable in the state you must be in now..."

The Mayor thins her lips dangerously- her sex fluttering desperately as she meets Emma's cool gaze- and snaps back

"Do you  _really_  believe that that's a suitable way to speak to your superiors? Now, if you don't mind, I, too, have work to be getting on with, Sheriff. Good day."

Always one to speak first and regret it later, the younger woman purrs huskily "... Is that before or after you take care of business?" as Regina places her hand on the door to take her leave.

Stopping in her tracks, the Mayor breathes in sharply through her nose, before turning back to the younger woman and hissing dangerously

"I suggest you watch yourself, dear..."

"Regina, I was kidding, I-"

"-This storm looks as though it could be treacherous..."

"I..."

_Uh oh..._

The blonde trails off into silence, the intensity of the darker woman's gaze leaving her suddenly remarkably nervous, and serving to remind her why she'd been running around in the rain in the first place. Nodding with begrudged obedience and moving to gather up her things, she mutters that she agrees and hopes the darker woman makes it back to her office alright.

Regina smirks and slips out the door.

She doesn't imagine she's going to get much further than her car for a little while, anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy birthday, K :) A friend of mine asked if I could update this fic as a birthday present, and it's been a while! but hopefully it reads well and you'll enjoy this next instalment. Please, please, please review :)

_She doesn't imagine she's going to get much further than her car for a little while, anyway._

No.

Pulling the door to her Benz shut against the ominous shriek of the storm that thunders down onto her windscreen and echoes tinnily off the roof, she grips the steering wheel tightly as she swallows breathlessly.

What just happened had been almost  _entirely_  out of character, and yet it had seemed to make perfect  _sense_  once her dangerous dance with the Sheriff had begun.

Had seemed  _right_.

She tells herself she feels a great deal of regret- not for  _fucking_  the blonde, not at all, for she had seen something she'd wanted and had acted on her desire- but for not using the situation to her advantage. She grieves now for a dozen missed opportunities to make the little bitch scream. Thinks now on how satisfying it would have been to sink her teeth into pale flesh and scathe rain-slick skin with her nails hard enough to draw blood.

Thinks of how she'd had the Saviour completely at her mercy and yet failed to take out her rage in any shape or form other than to watch the blonde squirm beneath her.

"To act upon such fancies would have been dangerous."

She reminds herself now, but she is having trouble following this train of thought through as her mind pretty much stops at the memory of just how delectable she'd found the sight of Emma losing the careful veil of control she struggles to keep a hold of to have been.

Not that she is so naive that she believes the Sheriff had been _entirely_  at her mercy.

She knows a challenge when she sees one, just as she recognises something darker and twisted beneath false pleasantries, as there are certain aspects of the way the blonde can be that she is forced to begrudgingly admit she sees in herself. As such, she knows Emma had been giving her a show. Knows the younger woman probably doesn't react _quite_  so desperately and vocally when not playing a game. Knows the Sheriff had been perfectly  _aware_  of the way her tensing and moaning had been fucking with the Mayor's head, and knows  _also_  that this might well have lent quite a hand to the blonde's shuddering climax.

And what a sight  _that_  had been...

She feels her stomach clench in a way that is both pleasurable and maddening and closes her eyes.

It had taken every  _ounce_  of her self control to stalk from the station and leave Emma simply watching her go. Every  _ounce_  not to allow the blonde the satisfaction of being permitted to even the score.

Not that she would ever desire the Sheriff to touch her in any way.

_God, no._

"Damn..."

She snarls as she is unable to convince herself of what she is fairly certain is a stone-faced lie. She despises the girl. Looks down on her. Disdains of the Sheriff...

But that isn't to say that she isn't now struck with the image of pale fingers trailing down her own perfect flesh and teasing her lightly. She had thought earlier on the fact that she'd simply deem Emma to be the type to use sex to get what she wants, and is still a little surprised that she actually now _believes_  the blonde that she's innocent on this count.

If so, the younger woman is a  _fool_  not to use what she has at her disposal.

Biting her lip as she recalls the way lean muscle had flexed beneath pale skin, the Mayor hisses as her hand creeps of its own accord up her thigh to play dangerously close to her need. Her breath comes out in low, audible sighs as she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the headrest.

She knows that the windows of the Sheriff's office face out onto the field rather than towards the parking lot, and, with the rain beating a harsh crescendo all around, there is little sign of life anywhere nearby. The interior of her car is dark with the threat of the storm, and as she strives to calm her breathing while her sex throbs maddeningly and her thighs clench the way they had when Emma had moaned so wickedly into her ear. She slips her hand down between crisp linen and luxurious satin and sighs; still smelling the blonde on her.

* * *

Fastening her jeans after retrieving them from their crumpled heap beside her desk- her track pants slung over the radiator to dry- the Sheriff pulls her rain tangled hair up into a clumsy ponytail and pulls a sweatshirt down from on top of the high, metal cabinet in the corner; forgoing a bra or undershirt as everything else she has with her is damp from the storm. The soft fleece that lines the old, tattered sweatshirt feels deliciously pleasant against her bare flesh, and she thinks now- as she often does when going bare beneath- that the teasing way the downy cotton brushes against her nipples is just the right amount of pleasurable to make the day a little brighter.

She just wishes she could say the same about her underwear.

The tight cotton between her thighs is slick and damp, and terribly  _distracting_  she discovers as soon as she takes a seat and strives to organise the papers on her desk. She is still a little stunned by what just happened, but this is secondary to the deep feeling of smugness that sits in her chest.

She knows she put on a show.

She knows also that her words when bidding the Mayor farewell had hit their mark

The darker woman had resumed her dangerous and rather unpleasant demeanour before turning for the door, but it hadn't escaped the Sheriff's attention that the brunette had seemed rather flushed and uncomfortable. She'd stalked out with her head held high, but she had left behind her an air of frustration and need.

Well, it makes the blonde feel good to believe so, anyway.

She imagines she's probably right. Just as she'd recognised the look of lust in the Mayor's eyes as a look she's been victim to plenty of times herself, she  _also_  understands that for Regina to have taken things as far as they'd gone, she'd have to have been at least a  _little_  affected by the results.

At the time, this had felt like a sure win in the Sheriff's books.

Now though, as she crosses her legs and feels the remainder of her own reaction to their little game, she can't help but feel she's played her part a little too easily for her liking. Sure, she had been telling the truth- she _had_  needed it!- and it had felt devastatingly good, but the more she thinks on it, the more it  _frustrates_  her that she'd allowed Regina to call the shots.

Regina had spoken to her much as she always does, and had made it only too _clear_  that she didn't deem them to be on the same level. That she was doing as  _she_  pleased, and the fact that in doing so she was also incidentally 'pleasing' Emma was simply a coincidence.

"High and mighty bitch."

The Sheriff sighs, as it slowly dawns on her that she has just handed over a  _significant_  hand of power in the weird, fucked up game she doesn't ever remember asking to play.

Regina has seen her as good as naked.

Has seen her in a vulnerable and needy state.

She'd enjoyed the view and the show, sure, that goes without saying, but it still begs the question of where does that really leave the blonde  _now_.

"Fuck."

Emma sighs. Yawning widely and looking moodily out the window at the field out back- watching as the unkempt grass dances manically through the lashings of rain- she itches her nose thoughtfully. She tells herself not to worry about it, and that she can be fairly certain that good old Madame Mayor has gone home with some fairly  _urgent_  business to attend to.

That she can rest assured that when that certain 'business' is undertaken, she will play quite dominantly on the brunette's sly mind.

This thought lends her an impish grin, but it is not as wide as it might have been. After all, she can't help but wish she could exchange the favour and turn what is _almost_  a certainty into cold, hard knowledge, and _watch_  while-

"Hmmm..."

Raising a brow, Emma cocks her head to the side and listens. All she can hear is the pounding of rain on glass and on the rather clumsy tiles above. She supposes she probably  _wouldn't_  have heard the sound of an engine over the madness of the storm, and reminds herself that she hadn't really been listening out for anything in the first place.

Still... It doesn't hurt to _check_  outside the Station. To just  _peek_  and see if Regina got her car started okay and off on its way.

After all... The storm could be treacherous.

* * *

All ludicrous- and somewhat lecherous- fantasies aside, the blonde still finds herself stunned when she spies the Mayor's Benz parked beside her bug at the very end of the row of spaces. Not so much because Regina's car is still  _there_ , but because from her position on the steps she can see what the rest of the town and passers by would not be able to due to the sheltered nature of the Stations' lot, and what had  _seemed_  like idle fancy is now being played out in the flesh as she studies the delectable lines of the brunette's fine silhouette as her head is thrown back and her slim frame moves restlessly.

"Well, fuck..."

The blonde breathes, with something almost akin to respect, and she finds herself a little unsure of how to  _progress_  in this rather curious string of events. Her logic tells her to turn the fuck around, march back inside, and never- under any circumstances-  _ever_  mention what she's seen to Storybrooke's uptight, pristine Mayor.

That she is forbidden from even breaking into a  _grin_  around the woman, lest it be perceived as one of knowing.

She knows that the  _smart_  thing to do would be to walk away and stop this situation from becoming any more convoluted.

And so, naturally, she is  _entirely_  unsurprised when her feet begin moving of their own accord and she finds herself stalking through the rain in a manner that differs very little from her usual casual way of walking.

Deciding it would just be plain  _awkward_  to knock, she yanks open the door of the Benz with a grin and studies the open-mouthed brunette with unmasked curiosity.

Shock, then disbelief, and finally rage cross the Mayor's flushed features, and she removes her hand from it's recent position as though burnt.

"Hey."

Emma offers- unsure what  _else_  there is to say on the matter- and she steps back swiftly as she estimates she has about three seconds before perfectly manicured nails blaze crimson tracks across her cheek.

"What the hell are you doing..."

The Mayor's words are little more than a whisper in her anger, and then she's moving up and out the door with little else on her mind than her wish to choke the idiot blonde right here in the goddamned parking lot.

A fine plan if she'd had her magic- hell, if she'd had her _magic,_  she would have her way with the younger woman in  _many_  despicable, bloody ways- but as it is, Emma intercepts her attack easily, because in  _this_  world, right now,  _she's_  the one with the physical advantage.

_Good thing I've been training..._

The blonde thinks hazily, as she catches the Mayor's arms before the darker woman can do her any damage, and she dances the two of them around so that she has Regina backed up against the hood of the Mercedes. Chancing a glance up over the roof of the car, she concludes that as long as the brunette doesn't do anything stupid, they remain hidden from any nosy passers by- not that anyone with half a brain would be out in this downpour- before looking back down at the Mayor as the latter's thick hair glistens with rain.

"You know, if you'd wanted a hand, you could have just said."

The blonde broaches; her tone entirely sincere and dripping innocence while her eyes glitter with anything but.

"I will kill you..."

Regina hisses, and Emma smiles as she is suddenly certain that the brunette is bluffing. As for Graham, she remains uncertain just what she thinks, but looking into Regina's eyes now, she knows the brunette _herself_  might believe she speaks the truth, but that it will never happen.

"That's a bit overdramatic."

The Sheriff drawls- stoking the fire- and it feels  _good_  to watch the rage blaze in hypnotically dark eyes, as she recognises that fury from her own heart ever since Regina played her hateful hand in dealing with the twins. It had been a blow that had landed lower than all the rest, and Emma hasn't quite forgiven her for it yet, however good the Mayor had made her feel back in the Station. It serves to make her relish the battle she watches playing across the darker woman's face now, and she closes in on the brunette so that they stand hip flush to hip, with the Mercedes' grille pressing into the back of the Mayor's thighs; her clothes wet with rain.

"So what do you say, Regina?"

Emma murmurs as she glances down to the open V of the darker woman's drenched dress pants, and droplets glisten at the ends of her lashes like diamonds.

"Miss Swan..."

The brunette growls dangerously, and she wants to push the younger woman aside. Hell, she wants to push her down onto the wet tarmac with such force that the grinning idiot cracks her skull open... And yet...

She'd been close.

So fucking  _close_.

And she hates Emma. _Hates_  her. Craves her. Loathes her. Despises her. Wants her.

Wants to feel the power of the slim, hard body the younger woman has always kept hinted at but hidden that she knows is swamped beneath the sodden sweatshirt that now falls over sinfully tight jeans. Wants to feel that dangerous strength press against her- into her- and rid her of the overpowering desperation that causes her stomach to flutter.

Showing her teeth as thunder rumbles up ahead, she hisses stubbornly

"Don't you dare touch me."

"I won't if you don't want me to... But I'm fairly sure you do."

"You're  _delusional_. If you think I spare _any_  interest in you- that I would  _ever_  think of you like-"

But she trails off as the blonde catches her wrist and pulls her hand up between them; green eyes glancing down pointedly to glistening fingers as sharp white teeth flash in a devious smile. Refusing to allow Emma to think that she's about to be so easily broken, she snatches her hand away and snarls murderously

"We're outside... How  _dare_  you try and intimidate me like this in public."

"No one's around, and no one could see if they were. And I'm not _trying_  to intimidate you. I'm offering you a hand."

The Sheriff explains calmly; and with each word, she can see the darker woman's frustration brewing.

"I'm getting wet."

Regina snaps petulantly as water runs in freshets down onto her shirt from the dark, soaked tresses of her hair; almost black with the storm.

"And I'm asking if you want _help_  with that..."

Emma whispers; leaning over so that her breath teases the brunette's cheek, and she smiles to herself as she feels slender limbs tense up against her. She can practically _taste_  the stubborn hatred that forbids Regina to answer her, and she enjoys the electric silence as the darker woman struggles between her will and her want.

Eventually, Emma gets her answer, and she grins. The Mayor doesn't speak- doesn't do anything that could later be called submitting- as she refuses to give the blonde the satisfaction. After all, it could have been an accident. Could just have been a simple movement. But the younger woman knows otherwise, and when slim hips cock ever so slightly harder against her own, she complies.

The blondes fingers are cold from the rain, but they slide into the Mayor's slick warmth with luxurious ease as the latter makes a small, choked noise in the back of throat that greatly resembles Emma's own previous attempts at keeping from letting the other relish their victory. Still, the younger woman curls them up deep and uses her palm to do the rest and the brunette shudders as deep waves of pleasure begin coiling in her stomach.

When the Sheriff moves in to kiss her, she almost pulls away. Almost vocalises what she'd been thinking before when she'd had Emma on her back; that there is  _nothing_  about their tumultuous relationship that should incite such a tender, intimate act. The blonde's kiss isn't anything to do with romance however, and, as she tastes the lingering irritation and combat on the younger woman's tongue, she reciprocates violently; secretly enjoying the battle for dominance as she crashes her lips against Emma's and rocks against the impossible pleasure at the mercy of the Sheriff's cupped palm.

Feeling herself coming undone, Regina wrestles her hands up beneath the sodden shroud of the blonde's sweatshirt and explores taut flesh, frigid with cold, before digging in her nails cruelly with a dampened cry as she shakes beneath the Sheriff; the Benz's hood ornament biting irritatingly into her back as the younger woman yelps with pained surprise.

Panting harshly as her eyes remain locked with the blonde's and her fingers retain their hold on the latter's svelte frame, she licks the remaining taste of the younger woman from her lips- dimly aware of the taste of copper but unsure which one of them might be to blame- as the latter slowly removes her hand from rain-soaked dress pants.

"Go."

The Mayor snaps suddenly; pushing the blonde roughly backwards so that she stumbles slightly and allows her room to breathe, and Regina briskly works at the catch of her pants as the Sheriff watches her cautiously. Glancing back up into arresting green eyes, the brunette clears her throat and stalks for the Benz's door with a dangerous flash of her teeth.

"If you ever-  _ever-_  breathe a word of this..."

"Why would I? You have your own dirt on me."

Emma shrugs; shivering a little with the cold, but otherwise not about to allow Regina to back her into a hole when they are once more on even ground.

"... Yes... Well..."

The Mayor snaps, and the blonde sighs in relief as she knows that she might well receive all shades of hell for what just happened between them, but it will be a hell she is  _familiar_  with and nothing more.

"As I said earlier, I'm sure you should be behind a desk."

Regina continues disdainfully, but, when she slips into the welcoming interior of her car- the air still slightly sweet with the scent of her excitement- she glances back up at Emma and offers, almost as an afterthought

"And go put something  _warm_  on; you'll catch your death."

Before slamming the door shut and taking off in a screech of burning rubber.


End file.
